Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 586: Chapter 32: Alive

’There is no Savior in this world?’

’How could he say something so blasphemous?’

Martha’s eyes widened as she stared at Murphy in disbelief.

His jet-black eyes, as tranquil as a deep pool, reflected her terrified face.

There was no anger in them, no ridicule, not even a hint of emotion. He was simply stating a fact, as casually as if remarking that the weather was nice.

But it was this very tranquility that made Martha even more afraid.

If some drunken vagrant or a self-loathing thug had said such a thing, she would have simply thought they were mad, or that their minds had been corroded by nightmares.

’But *he* was the one who said it.’

’The man who made Rodrick grovel.’

’The man who had pulled her and Lina back from the brink of the abyss.’

’The man who had just been quoting the Holy Scripture.’

’How could a man like that say something so blasphemous?’

A dead silence fell over the courtyard.

Even young Lina stopped crying.

She didn’t understand why her mother was suddenly so afraid, but she could feel the oppressive weight in the air.

She lifted her small, tear-stained face to gaze timidly at Murphy, her young eyes once again filled with confusion and bewilderment.

She was too young to truly understand the weight of the word "blasphemy."

But even at her young age, she had heard the Priest preach when she went with her mother to the church for rations.

She knew the name "Oriane" wasn’t to be spoken carelessly, that you had to be quiet in church, and that the figures in the portraits were sacred.

These were among the few things that had been repeatedly taught to her in her short life.

So when Murphy said what he did, she didn’t understand it, but she felt an instinctive fear.

It was a different kind of fear from when her mother had yelled at her a moment ago.

Before, she had been afraid of her mom being angry.

But now, she was afraid... Afraid of what?

She didn’t know.

She only knew that the air had suddenly become heavy, so heavy she could hardly breathe.

Martha swallowed hard.

Her mind raced, trying to find an explanation, any explanation that could make all of this seem reasonable.

"S-Sir..."

"You mean... you aren’t the Savior, right? What you just said... you were saying that *you’re* not the Savior. Is that what you meant?"

She stared intently at Murphy, the last flicker of hope burning in her eyes.

’If he would just nod, if he would just say, "Yes, that’s what I meant," then everything would make sense.’

’That’s right, of course he isn’t the Savior.’

’But that doesn’t mean there is no Savior in this world.’

’Besides, he might well be the Savior.’

’He’s just being humble, just unwilling to admit that he is the Savior.’

’That’s perfectly normal. Those who are truly virtuous are always humble.’

’Didn’t the Priest often say so?’

’True Saints never call themselves Saints.’

’That has to be it.’

’That has to be it...’

However, Murphy looked at her, his jet-black eyes unwavering.

"No. I mean that in this world, there has never been a Savior."

That last flicker of hope was extinguished.

The color drained completely from Martha’s face.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out.

Her throat felt as if it were blocked by something, preventing any sound from escaping.

All she could hear was her own heartbeat. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. It pounded so fast she thought it would leap out of her chest.

’The Savior doesn’t exist?’

’The Savior mentioned over and over in the Holy Scripture, the one who would save the world and bring light and hope—he doesn’t exist?’

’The Savior she prayed to every single night, begging Him to keep Lina safe as she grew, the one who pulled mother and daughter back from despair time and time again—he doesn’t exist?’

’The Savior who was the only thing she could cling to, the one who guided her through the darkness and gave her suffering meaning—he doesn’t exist?’

’Then what was all her suffering over the years for?’

’What about those countless nights spent too hungry to sleep?’

’What about the days she was beaten, cursed, and humiliated?’

’What about all those prayers, kneeling on the cold floor, begging Him to keep Lina from getting sick, from being taken away, from living in Hell just like her?’

’Was it all... meaningless?’

Martha fell silent.

She just stood there, completely still.

Sunlight fell upon her, illuminating her faintly trembling shoulders.

Silence completely enveloped the courtyard.

It was as if even the wind had stopped.

In a corner of the wall, a few flowering trees bloomed with white blossoms, a petal or two occasionally drifting down to land silently on the gray stone pavers.

The two guards at the courtyard gate remained ramrod straight, their gazes vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

But neither of them looked back, and neither dared to.

Though they couldn’t clearly hear the conversation from where they stood, they could feel the intangible pressure.

It was a silence more terrifying than any angry roar.

Faith and survival clashed violently in the depths of Martha’s heart.

On one side was the only thing she had been able to cling to for over twenty years of life.

It was what her mother had told her with her dying breath: "Martha, believe in Him. He will protect you."

It was the truth she had been told since she could remember, taught to her over and over, carved into her very bones.

It was her only solace in countless moments of despair.

’He will see.’

’He will hear.’

’He will protect you.’

These words had kept her alive until this day.

But on the other side was the man standing before her.

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